


Chokehold

by hybridshade (shimyaku)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Collars, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt Neal, Identity Reveal, M/M, Magic-Users, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Neal whump, Nice Peter, Non-Sexual Slavery, Pre-Slash, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Secrets, Touch-Starved, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4488162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimyaku/pseuds/hybridshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal is a Level 10 and the most powerful person Peter's ever been in the vicinity of. When the Magic Division suddenly dumps their prize prisoner in Peter's lap, he has no idea what to make of it. Except that Neal seems suspiciously keen on the idea.</p><p>Belated reposting of my reversebang fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chokehold

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** written for the [](http://wc-reverse-bb.livejournal.com/profile)[**wc_reverse_bb**](http://wc-reverse-bb.livejournal.com/) for [](http://kaylashay.livejournal.com/profile)[**kaylashay**](http://kaylashay.livejournal.com/)'s lovely prompt, and you can find her art post [right here!](http://kaylashay.livejournal.com/230194.html) Please head over and take a look!

 

 

The day he was escorted into the FBI's head office – that was the first time Peter had seen the man up close.

Of course he'd seen the hundreds of surveillance photos that had filtered through over their years of tracking him, as well as the hours of video and witness testimony and whatever other evidence they'd scrounged up along the way. In fact, Peter was probably more intimately familiar with the file than just about anyone in M-Division, despite not being part it himself. And his desire to give chase, to apprehend this one particular man, was well known enough that Peter was asked to be there the day he was caught.

That had been the first instance Peter had seen him in real life, and it was the first time in his life that he'd knowingly been in the presence of a Level 10.

M-Division had amassed a small army to capture one Neal Caffrey, but if they'd been hoping for a fight they must have been sorely disappointed. Peter had watched from a distance as Caffrey had surrendered himself and come quietly, allowing the front-line agents to shackle him around the neck and wrists without so much as a word. In the end it had taken little more than an hour from initial mobilisation to having Caffrey back at headquarters in a beefed-up holding cell. And it wasn't that Peter had been left wanting by the whole experience. Yes, something wasn't sitting quite right, but no, Caffrey wasn't the type for provoking conflict, so Peter hadn't expected him to do something drastic. But he had expected Neal to do _something_.

He hadn't seen Neal for over twelve months after that. M-Division was almost as much a mystery to him as it was to the next guy on the street, but he knew enough to know there would be interrogations and some sort of rehabilitation assessment and mental evaluations… There were limits on how much power M-Division was supposed to impose upon prisoners, but Caffrey was the biggest fish they'd hooked in some years, in more ways than one. Peter just had to wait and hope that he would come out the other end still as a functioning human being.

So when he'd looked up from his desk one day to find Neal Caffrey looking straight at him – in the process of being escorted towards his office by both a single guard and Deputy Director Fowler of M-Division – he hadn't really known what to make of it.

~

 

"Deputy Fowler, what a surprise."

"Supervisory Special Agent Burke. Nice to see you again."

They shook hands only for as long as it took to be polite and Peter made a point of not looking towards the prisoner, lest he let his controlled expression slip. Fowler was a man he respected to some degree, but not a man he would put his trust in. And until he knew what Fowler's intentions were, he'd have to play things close to the vest.

"So, what brings you here, exactly?"

"I realise that from your end this is going to seem rather unexpected, but from my end it's far from it. Caffrey has been assessed at great length by my team and is now deemed fit to take an active role under supervision. By that I mean that he is considered an asset to the FBI and we hope to use him to his fullest potential."

Peter frowned. "Use him in what way?"

"I have a couple of Level 8s on my team that specialise in personality and behaviour estimation, and they have concluded that Caffrey would be most helpful when working in the field. They have also concluded that he would be best doing so in a non-magical field. You're a Level 2, aren't you, Burke?"

Something leaden and uncomfortable dropped into the pit of Peter's stomach. He wasn't sure he liked where Fowler was going with this. "Yes, Level 2. _Barely_."

"But you have training with the usage of the containment system, yes?"

"Of course, but only the rudimentary stuff from back in my rookie days—"

"We've already got a few upper Level captives stationed in Violent Crimes, Cyber Crimes, and Organised Crime, and since you're so familiar with Caffrey's case and helped us bring him in, we feel it's only right that you get first dibs."

"Wait, what?" Of all possible things, Peter had _not_ seen that one coming. Sure, he'd thought he'd like to meet Caffrey one day, maybe get a chance to utilise his skills should a prominent enough case come up, but to actually be put in charge… It seemed beyond the scope of common sense. Not to mention that he wasn't sure he wanted the responsibility of looking after someone so powerful. "You want to assign him to me? A Level 2 SSA in White Collar? Are you sure that's a good use of your resources?"

Fowler huffed and shifted on his feet. "Burke, I can't say I'm happy about it myself, but I've gotta put my trust in my own system and my people don't make mistakes. They've strongly advised me to put Caffrey in this division. With you. I know White Collar likes to play it low key, but you're just as active as any other division. I've seen the stats. As for your Affinity Level, so long as you're Level 2 or above you'll be able to operate the containment cuff, no problem. Caffrey is fitted with a power draining collar that should keep him hovering around Level 1 to Level 2 ability until or unless you allow him to be otherwise. But you should know all that. All I need from you now is a yes or no."

Peter had to close his eyes and take a long deep breath to stop his mind from racing. The whole scenario was so far out of his comfort zone it was in another galaxy, but Fowler was forcing him to make a choice here and it was one that affected both himself _and_ Caffrey. He couldn't forget that.

"I want a moment to speak with Caffrey. Alone."

Fowler looked about to protest, but then nodded.

"Fine. You've got five minutes, Burke."

Fowler about-faced and left the room. The guard at Neal's side didn't remove his containment cuff but did unhook the chain that connected it to the collar around Neal's neck. The chain disappeared instantly. And a moment later they were alone.

Peter turned and finally allowed himself to look at the other man, to take in his full appearance. He wasn't sure if he liked what he saw.

"So, Agent Burke. We finally meet."

"Indeed we do. If I'd have known I would have prepared a speech or something. I'm not keen on surprises."

"Well, sorry about that, but when Fowler gets his mission face on… Speaking of which, how would you like to babysit me for the foreseeable future? I promise I'll be good?"

Neal smirked, his piercing blue eyes seeming to jump with playfulness. He was about as attractive a man as Peter had ever laid eyes on. Well-proportioned in body, toned limbs only partially hidden by his jumpsuit, a handsome and unblemished face, and again those eyes… If he had seen him on the street Peter would most certainly have looked his fill and been none too shamed about it, but this wasn't the outside and this wasn't some stranger. And Peter had a horrible feeling that something else was going on here, that he wasn't privy to the whole truth somehow. He just couldn't fathom what, nor whether it was Neal or Fowler and the Magic Division that was the one hiding things.

"Neal, I'm going to cut to the chase here. I realise that we don't know each other very well. That's obviously a pretty big hurdle to start with. But one thing you must know about me is that I value honesty above just about anything else. If we enter into this agreement together, I hope that we can build trust between us and I would expect you to be as honest with me as I will be with you. And now having said that, I need to ask if you actually _want_ to do this."

Neal's expression had sunk into something carefully blank, just the ghost of a smile on his lips. Even so, Peter could sense the seriousness about him, and hoped that that meant he was thinking over Peter's words. There was a depth to Neal's eyes in that moment that Peter felt must have been a rare sight. And maybe it was just a trick, maybe Neal was just as deceptive with or without his powers, but for now he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

"Yes, I want to. I don't want to go back there, Peter."

There was more to those words, that look, Peter was sure. But now was not the time.

"Ok, fine. Let's do this."

 

~

 

Peter turned the alarm off with a slap of his palm and sat himself up in bed. It had been a week since that day – a week of dramatic changes that were going to take some time getting used to. Being responsible for another person was one of them. It had been a number of years since he and El had divorced, and they'd never had kids, so Satchmo was about as close as he got these days. Until now, of course.

He looked down at the watch on his wrist. His actual watch was over on the dresser somewhere, but he imagined it would be sometime before he ever put it back on again. After Neal had been signed into his custody they had spent the rest of the day in his office working out a list of rules and allowances. Peter had already made a point of removing the chain that connected his cuff to Neal's collar – Neal wasn't a dog after all. He'd then allowed Neal to spell the heavy leather collar into a corded necklace, and Peter's cuff into a wristwatch. Neal had been the one to ask first, and Peter had conceded that he'd rather not endure more staring from his colleagues and the public than necessary. To anyone that asked, Neal would be his CI, end of story, nothing to see here.

And then there were the living arrangements. Peter had offered the couch in his apartment since he didn't have a spare room, but Neal had insisted upon staying with a friend. He'd been given an allotted radius by the Magic Division, within which he could exist as normally as he was able. Peter had thought it suspicious, but after checking out June Ellington's background and finding nothing of note, he hadn't had grounds to dispute Neal's preferences. On top of which, Neal's Source had been listed by M-Division as the too-vague 'outside atmosphere'. Neal's room at June's had a considerably sized balcony, and Peter seemed to find him out there whenever he went to pick Neal up in the mornings, so he had come to the conclusion that Neal's core magical strength must have been solar powered.

June's place was on the opposite side of Neal's radius from Peter's apartment, but thanks to the cuff he didn't have to worry too much about Neal's comings and goings. Via the collar his movements were logged electronically, true. But through the cuff Peter was able to sense where he was. He just had to thread a trickle of a location spell through the 'watch' and as long as he held the spell in place he could get a mental grasp of where Neal was at any time. He could also tell whenever Neal used magic. It registered as a faint warning pulse that came through the watch, but he'd come to know that such weak pulses were from when Neal used his magic for basic, everyday things like turning a light off or reheating a cup of coffee that had gone cold – things that everybody did. He hadn't tried anything more than that so far and Peter was grateful. He'd already promised Neal that he would never punish him unnecessarily, but there would be consequences if he ever reached beyond his confines. And thankfully Neal seemed to understand.

So far he'd only had to ask Neal to utilise his powers once. They'd had a suspect on the run and needed a location fast, so Peter had passed a conditioned allowance through the watch to Neal's collar, giving him enough leeway with his magic to craft a potent locating spell, and he'd found the guy they were after in all of five seconds. On the other side of the city. In a basement. Several stories underground.

It was shocking. And afterwards Neal still looked fresh as a daisy. Even their best Level 8 Locators would have raised a sweat.

Still, that was what he was there for, right? There were other circumstances where they could have used Neal's help, but Peter was wary. Both of his own ability to control Neal's allowance of power, and of abusing Neal's presence. No doubt Fowler would have been telling Peter to push harder, but something was holding Peter back. Something about Neal's aura (for lack of a better word) told Peter that he wasn't without reason.

Peter forced himself to stop fiddling with the watch and he got himself out of bed. He showered, dressed, and ate, before heading to June's. Neal was already out the front and waiting when he arrived, all dolled up in another of those fancy suits of his. Peter tried to focus on how ridiculous he looked, but there was simply no denying that the clothes fit his body like a bespoke glove, showing off his straight shoulders, slender waist, and slim legs. Peter wanted to hit him. Or at least skew his tie or rumple his jacket or _something_.

"Morning, Peter. How are we today?"

Peter sniffed. "I'm fine. And you're awfully chipper. It makes me suspicious."

"Oh, come on. You're in the FBI. Suspicious is like your default setting or something. Thank god you're not in the CIA."

"Huh. Fair enough. Get in the car already."

Everything proceeded as normal until Peter finally pulled into the FBI car park and came to a stop. They were nearing the end of a big case, and depending on a couple of factors – Neal being one of them – they should be able to bring the culprits in and finish up in the next day or two. But Peter wanted to be sure.

"So, we're nearly at the end of this case with the diamonds…"

"Reckon we can polish it off today, do you?"

"Well, that depends. I want to know how up for it you are. We need some fake diamonds good enough to convince a trained eye – or, at least, make the guy _think_ he's convinced – and then when we take them down there's going to be at least half a dozen guys, possibly with guns, and we're going to need you to locate and hold all of them and their weapons, as well as get them to talk. Maybe even rattle around in their heads a bit if they're being stubborn. That's a lot in one day for anyone. What do you think?"

Peter didn't think twice as he patted Neal's knee with his palm, but when Neal suddenly jumped in his seat, his body tensing up like a rubber band pulled taut, Peter immediately sat back.

"Neal—?"

"Sorry, sorry. Wasn't expecting it. And I've been leaning that way so my leg's gone all pins and needles. But, no, look, I'm pretty sure I can handle all that. It'll be up to you to allow me to siphon enough power. And I might need tomorrow to recover?"

It took a moment for Peter to sort through Neal's sudden outpouring of words, and while he wasn't completely buying the pins and needles thing he figured he could let it slide this once.

"Alright, fine. We get it all done today and I'll let you off the hook for tomorrow, I think that's a fair trade."

They headed up to work, brought down the bad guys in one fell swoop – Neal doing most of the heavy lifting as promised – and Peter thought little more of it.

 

~

 

A day passed full of paperwork and back-patting, but even after such a short time together Peter kind of missed having Neal around. They'd developed a routine that was part teasing banter, part actual crime solving, and Peter had been delighted to find that Neal was just as well versed in the more practical side of things as he was when it came to magic – perhaps even more so. In fact he seemed noticeably more enthusiastic when it came to the 'real life', hands on-type stuff, and it twigged that somehow that that's what Fowler's people had been referring to when they'd suggested Neal would sit well in White Collar. So apparently they'd known what they were on about – who knew?

As Fowler had also pointed out, there were other higher Level criminals who had been placed in the custody of Violent, Cyber, and Organised Crime – divisions where the application of magic was much more common – but as far as Peter was aware, Neal was the first to be placed under White Collar. That fact coupled with Neal being a Level 10 was apparently cause for concern with some of the higher-ups, the concerns being with someone so powerful not being used for their magic ability. Hughes had told him a few such things in confidence, but also that he shouldn't be worried. Not when they were closing cases because of Caffrey, and not when he and Peter had proven their good rapport.

Neal _had_ been behaving, it was true. Considering his reputation, it was almost out of character for Neal. But Peter still couldn't shake the feeling that something else was up. He'd granted Neal a day of being left alone, but that didn't mean Peter couldn't check up on him from afar. Every now and then he would utter a familiar spell into the watch and get a vague notion of June's house. He kept on even as he arrived home and sat down to eat some reheated takeout, the result ever the same. That was until he was on the couch with the TV on – it was after eight, he had a near-empty beer in hand, and sleep was already threatening. Peter uttered the locator spell once more and found himself off balance when he realised Neal was on the move.

He could have beefed up the locator spell if he'd wanted, but he was too tired to concentrate, so he pulled out his laptop and checked on Neal's GPS coordinates instead. On the onscreen map he followed the little yellow dot that was Neal as it moved along several roads, taking a left here and a right there. He was somewhere in central Manhattan and well within his allotted radius, but that didn't slake Peter's interest. He waited for Neal to come to a stop in some sort of building, and then looked up the address. It was a bar. How…anticlimactic. He knew Neal preferred wine, but he also knew that Neal liked company, and if memory served June was out of town.

Peter settled in and waited. He dozed off for a few minutes here and there, but never for long. Eventually a couple of hours had passed and the little yellow dot returned home – by foot, judging on how long it took. Finally Peter convinced himself to head off to bed, berating himself for being so suspicious when Neal had been nothing but a model CI thus far. Again, he deserved the benefit of the doubt – at least until he slipped up. _If_ he slipped up.

The next morning Neal sent Peter a text that he was going to walk to work. It wasn't the first time, so Peter didn't mind. Plus it saved having to drive across town and then circle back to HQ. Peter arrived early and watched from his office as his colleagues trickled in on the floor below.

Neal arrived right on time. As always, he waltzed in like he owned the place. His eyes held the same usual spark, his smile was as roguish as ever, his hat tilted just so. But there was something there, something in his body language that told Peter he was exhausted to the point that a strong breeze might tip him over. Had his outing the night before kept him up that late? Or was he still recovering from their take-down two days prior?

He'd seen the effects of Neal's powers in the past, just some of the amazing and frightening things he could do, and all without missing a beat. Was Neal's current behaviour some kind of con? Was he ill? Or…perhaps could it be an effect of the collar? Peter had to confess, he knew little of the inner workings of such things. He knew the basics of what they did, and knew what part he himself had to play, but he knew nothing of how it affected the person collared. If something was wrong, Neal had said nothing thus far. The question was – would he?

"Morning, Peter."

"Morning. Get up to anything fun yesterday?"

Neal grinned like he could see straight through Peter's ploy. And indeed he could.

"Come on, Peter. You can't honestly tell me you weren't spying on my every move. I know that FBI-grade suspicion is ingrained too deeply for you to not check up on me."

"Fair enough," Peter conceded, "So tell me your poison. You've already told me you're not the beer type."

"That bar happens to have a spectacular wine list. They have a sommelier there on weeknights who really knows his stuff."

"Fine, fine, I get the point. Now we've got a new case to tuck into, so let's get started."

 

~

 

The days ticked along. They closed case after case. Neal continued to be a mystery, and Peter continued to be quietly dubious.

He kept a close eye on Neal's comings and goings, probably to the point of unhealthiness, but it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. He figured out that Neal would only go back to the bar when June was out of town, and he wondered what the connection was. Neal still turned up with that exhausted air about him more often than he liked, and Peter had to wonder if he was recharging properly. He had no idea what it took to restore such power, since his own magic Level was so trivial in comparison. Peter's Source was the feeling of success, so with all the cases they'd been closing lately, recharging had been a cinch. But if Neal's assumed solar-powered Source had some kind of specific conditions attached to it (which was entirely possible) then that could explain his exhaustion.

The topic was always on the tip of Peter's tongue, but somehow he never got around to mentioning it. The closest they got was Peter questioning Neal on his limits, how much he thought he could handle in a short period of time. Peter made a point of always asking Neal ahead of time – magic was a very personal thing in his mind, so he wanted to avoid making demands of Neal as much as possible. He knew very well that his cuff allowed him to force Neal to use his power, and he had slipped up once or twice when the pressure was on, but he had always apologised afterwards and Neal had always said it was okay. In fact, not once had he denied Peter anything when it came to his power.

 

~

 

It all came to a head when their next case had them stumbling straight into Vincent Adler.

Of course the guy had to be a Level 9. Neal had tried to talk him out of a confrontation at the beginning, but the idea that Adler had had Neal first made Peter start burning up on the inside. Whether it was from jealousy or anger-by-proxy or something else altogether, he didn't know. He'd asked Neal if he thought he could take Adler down, if he was prepared to, and when he'd gotten the affirmative, that was that. Fire and wind and telekinesis and invisible physical blows of increasing strength had ensued. It was a magical mess of cyclonic proportions and Peter's suit was heavy with sweat by the end, having had to hold open the magic link with Neal, allowing him to use more and more of his power. And the sight of it all had been exhausting enough. It was the golden rule of self-preservation that if someone with a higher Level than you was throwing their power around, you better get out of the damn way. Unfortunately that hadn't been an option.

They brought Adler to his knees eventually, which was what mattered, but it had taken his and Jones' combined strength to drag Neal up the stairs to his room back at June's. He'd told Neal to take two days off to recover, but when the third rolled around and Peter still hadn't heard a peep from his charge, he checked Neal's location and then hightailed it over to the house.

Neal was passed out on the bed when he arrived, seemingly asleep and buried under the covers. Peter approached with caution, but couldn't help the surprised gasp that left him when he got a look at Neal's face. Only that it didn't look like Neal's at all. This face was sickly pale and hollow in the cheeks, and what he could see of Neal's shoulders and arms told much the same story – too thin and frail to be healthy.

He reached out to place the back of his hand against Neal's forehead, checking if he was running a temperature, but the moment his skin made contact Neal was jolting awake.

And instantly his appearance transformed into the 'perfect' face and body of the Neal Peter was familiar with.

"What—!"

"Neal, it's me. It's only me, okay?"

The façade faded away again, leaving Neal's usually bright blues as glossy and unfocussed. He nodded.

Peter crouched by the bed. "Can you tell me what's going on with you? I know you haven't been right for a while, but honestly, I've been too scared to ask."

"I'll explain, I promise," Neal said with effort, his voice dry and raspy, "But can you just… hold me for a while? Please, Peter. It might actually help you understand a bit if you do."

Peter had no idea how far the instruction 'hold me' stretched, but he didn't think too hard about it as he stripped down to his singlet and boxers and hopped under the covers, pulling Neal against his chest. Neal shivered against him for some time, but eventually seemed to fall into sleep. It was only then that Peter let himself relax.

~

 

Upon waking Peter had to quickly remind himself where he was and who was the warm body lying against him, lest he lose his cool. It had been a long time since he'd woken up in an unfamiliar bedroom, and perhaps equally as long since there'd been an unfamiliar person next to him. Not that Neal was unfamiliar per se, but in an intimate sense he certainly was. But Peter actually felt okay about it. He couldn't deny that he'd been thinking of Neal this way since that day in his office when he'd first seen Neal up close – imagining Neal in his bedroom, doing _bedroom_ related things. The thought alone made his cheeks heat up. But he'd never really considered that anything would ever really happen, despite that all they were currently doing was cuddling.

Going by the bedside clock they'd been asleep for over four hours, and at some point during that time they both shifted around, Peter now flat on his back and Neal buried into the side of his chest. He looked down, but he couldn't manage to see anything past the messy brown curls of Neal's hair. He didn't have to wait long, though, as minutes later Neal was stirring and leaning back on his elbows. His head tilted back and he looked up at Peter, a grin hanging from his lips.

"Afternoon," he drawled.

Peter could barely contain the gasp that threatened to let slip. Neal looked… like himself again. Fatigued, perhaps, but healthy. Had Peter been a few paces away he might have thought the façade was up again, but from this close he could just tell it wasn't. Something about his eyes said 'genuine' and Peter had to wonder if this was the first time he was seeing the real face of Neal Caffrey. He still looked a bit off-colour and like he might still need a week of sleep, but at least now he didn't look like he should be in a hospital.

"So, this is the real you, huh?"

"Yeah, this is the real deal."

"Probably I shouldn't be surprised that you managed to fake what your actual Source was."

Neal snorted. "That was probably the easy part, to be honest."

"Speaking of which," Peter said with a sigh, sitting himself upright, "That very first day, I asked you to be honest with me. But you—"

"You have to understand, Peter. I had to protect myself. I do what I feel I have to, to maintain my own safety."

"But I can't—"

"The FBI isn't protection for someone like me, Peter. If M-Division really knew… they'd never let me leave, even once I'd done my time. And being out in the world isn't safe anymore either. It might never be again."

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and then crossed his arms. And sighed again. "You're going to have to be a bit more explicit about it if you're going to want me to stay on your side here. Pretty sure you knew that, though."

Neal sat himself upright and held out his left wrist, revealing a fitted silver cuff Peter had never seen before – likely it had been spelled invisible.

"This is a power drainer."

"Neal. You do remember you're wearing a power draining collar already, right?"

Closing his eyes, Neal let out a frustrated sigh, as if he were explaining the simplest of things yet Peter still wasn't getting it.

"Do you have a containment sphere in your car?"

"Yeah, in the trunk. Fowler gave it to me when you came to White Collar."

"Let me have a little power then, would you?"

Peter fed a small amount of magic into his watch and then felt the tell-tale warning of Neal's power against his wrist. Moments later the containment activation device floated through the open window.

"Activate it."

He did as Neal asked, taking the floating rectangle into his palm, and pressing the 'on' button. A barely visible shield appeared around them, locking into place, and even Peter could feel the walls of the containment sphere holding in his magic. He couldn't imagine what it must have felt like for Neal.

"Now take this off," Neal said, holding out his wrist, "You'll need to thread a small unlocking spell into the clasp. It doesn't work if I do it."

Peter pulled the cuff away and then watched in awe as Neal reached up to the corded necklace that was his collar, and pulled it away from his body as if it were made of nothing more than tissue paper.

It shouldn't have been possible.

"You… how? Explain. Right now."

"Don't you get it yet, Peter? Calling me a Level 10 is like trying to put a grown man into a school uniform. It just doesn’t fit."

"You're telling me that you have too _much_ power for that collar to work?"

"And that this sphere will only hold me in for about ten minutes before it starts to crack."

"So…" Peter hesitated, not sure where to go next with his questioning. Neal obviously had been managing to hold himself back somehow, else Peter would surely have known that he'd been using spells, or even just existing with a higher Level than he should have been able to reach. But how could he be sure of anything anymore?

He fingered the metal cuff that he'd taken from Neal's wrist, drawing it into his hand. "You said that this cuff was another power drainer?"

"My friend Moz – the little guy with the glasses?"

"The conspiracy theorist?"

Neal grinned. "That's him. He's only a Level 7, but extremely talented when it comes to fusing technology and magic. He's been making power drainers for me for a long time. They usually last about six to eight months before they're just completely fried. He had to smuggle one in to me while I was with M-Division. I think that was about the most nerve-wracking experience of my life."

"So you managed to hide things from them? Like your Level and your Source."

"Wasn't easy. M-Division have a lot of resources. And their telepaths are top notch."

"Just not as top notch as you," Peter said with a smirk.

"Thankfully. Otherwise I might never have gotten out of there, like I said."

"Meaning they would want to keep you as a lab rat."

Neal swallowed, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I've met a lot of Level 10s in my life, Peter, but none of them were as strong as me. Power like mine, when it's unrestrained, is like a beacon for other higher Levels. Those of them that take pleasure in their strength, they will gladly come at you, try to put you to the test, try to prove something. Or maybe just try to take you down, if they see you as a threat. M-Division would see me as a threat. But also as a source of information. I mean, I doubt they have any idea how many Level 11 and 12s there are out there, or that they even exist for that matter. We have enough power that we can usually keep a low profile. Except when we start committing crimes, much like someone you know…"

He could see what Neal was trying to do there, trying to lighten the mood and laugh things off like he always did. But Peter saw right through it this time. He got the feeling that from now on he always would. So he reached out and picked up Neal's left hand, holding it in his own. He thumbed over the wrist where the cuff had been, noting the slight indentation and discolouration of the skin. He'd obviously been wearing those things for a hell of a long time.

"You hate it, don't you?" he asked without looking up. But he could feel the resulting hitch of Neal's breath, and the tension that shot through his body.

"You have no idea," Neal answered, so quietly it was barely audible. "People are either afraid of you, or they want something, or both. Draining my power like that and trying to do everything the old fashioned way – without magic – that has been the only way I've been able to live something like a normal life. And playing at being a Level 9 or 10 is bad enough as it is. Adler figured me out, though. He had a hold over me for a long time, and it's because of him that a lot of bad people know my secret."

"So you have to keep wearing the cuff, then."

"It's the only way I know how to keep a low profile."

"And what about the fact that you can't even take it off yourself? Or the fact that it _hurts_ you. I've never really thought you to be the outright masochistic sort."

Neal withdrew his hand from Peter's hold and lay back down on the bed. Removing the cuff had loosened some of the tightness around his eyes, it was true, but he still looked horribly tired, like he'd never be able to get enough sleep.

"If I can't take it off then I resist the temptation to do so," Neal finally replied, half muffled by a pillow, "And I just have to deal with the fatigue or pain or whatever. People like me, our bodies are designed to hold a lot of power on a biological level, so reducing that power hurts the body."

"You still have to Recharge though, right?"

"Not as often, thankfully. But yeah, that's one more thing I can't escape."

Peter settled himself down on the bed as well, in a mirror image of Neal.

"What's your Source, Neal?"

Neal laughed. But it was mostly humourless – a laugh of resignation. "Positive human touch. Happy now?"

"That's not the word I would use," Peter muttered under his breath. "But no wonder you wanted to get out of M-Division. Frankly, I think I'm amazed you're not dead."

"Well, I may have… gotten a little overly friendly with one of the telepaths. I didn't do anything untoward, but it was enough to get me by."

"Christ, Neal." Peter squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and tried to rationalise what his life had suddenly just become. All these revelations from Neal were going to change things in a big way. The 'right' thing to do would be to report it, but there was no possible way he could ever go on living in good conscience if he did so. Especially with the thought of what Fowler and his goon squad might try to do afterward. The other option was to aid and abet. It was the option he'd be taking, he couldn't deny it, but it didn't mean he had to be pleased about it.

Peter brought his thoughts back to the present discussion, when something suddenly twigged. "Wait, that wine bar you went to…"

"Peter, sometimes your deductive skills make me want to hit you, just for the record. But above that wine bar is a private sex club. I did actually meet Moz in the bar a time or two, but I go upstairs to the club to Recharge. If June is in town I stay home and she'll hug me or hold my hand for a while, but sex has always been the quickest and easiest way."

Peter cleared his throat. "So, you, uh—"

"No, Peter, I don't. I go there because I know some of the people and they're not reluctant to be… a bit touchy-feely with you, minus any possible awkwardness or expectation."

"Somehow I can't imagine that ever _not_ being awkward."

"It just takes a while to get past your own insecurities. After that it's actually kind of… nice."

"Well," Peter swallowed down his hesitation, "Maybe you won't have to go back there anymore."

"Peter, you—"

"You'd have to be blind not to see how much I'm attracted to you, Neal. Even Jones called me out on it. And I know it so completely against protocol and all that, but I'd rather risk it and know you were safe and not hurting more than necessary."

Neal grinned. "I think that's about the most romantic thing anybody has ever said to me."

He reached out toward Peter before suddenly stopping, looking down in the vicinity of his feet. "Oh, wait." Neal picked up the cuff from where it had been lying on the mattress and quickly clasped it back around his wrist. Not a moment later the wall of the containment sphere audibly cracked, before literally bursting into dust and disappearing into the ether. Neal shrugged sheepishly, grabbing the sphere's activator and throwing it somewhere onto the floor and out of the way.

"Moz can get you a new one so you won't have to explain how you lost it. He can make me a new collar as well."

"If you say so."

That tightness was back around Neal's eyes, the effect of the cuff unrelenting but sadly necessary. Peter could see there was now less of a burden on Neal's shoulders though, and he could see it in his presence – a calmness that hadn't been there before. It settled Peter's anxieties for the mean time. As did having Neal confide in him, being so open with him in the way he'd hoped for. And finally they closed the gap, Neal leaning all the way in pushing their lips together. Peter wrapped his arms around Neal's waist and pulled him in close, relishing the press of Neal's body against his own. He wanted positive human touch? He was surely going to get it.

 

~

 

"What now?"

Peter was dressed back in his suit, in the process of tying up his shoes. Neal was still tucked under the sheets, but looking about as good as Peter had ever seen him. Without the conjured-up façade this time.

"We keep going. You keep being my handler, I keep being your CI, we keep closing cases until my time's up."

"You're okay with that?"

Peter didn't know what to think anymore. About the work, that is. It would be so much easier to utilise Neal's abilities for their cases now, but then they would have to be extra careful - _Peter_ would have to be extra careful – that they didn't let anything slip. They were both hiding some pretty big secrets, and Peter did work for the FBI… but Neal was all too aware of it, he was sure, and yet still wanted to play CI. Peter had no real reason to deny him.

"Peter, where I am right now is the safest place to be. I've got moderate protection, I've got legitimate reason to be wearing a power drainer, and I'm not out there on the run where I might otherwise be hunted like a wild animal. So yeah, I'm plenty okay. Okay?"

"Fine," Peter huffed, "Then I'll expect you back in the office tomorrow bright and early."

"Whatever you say, Agent Burke."

Peter got to his feet and shook a finger at Neal in warning – for whatever little good it would do. He headed back to the office with a clearer mind than he'd had in what probably amounted to months. Neal was considerably less of a mystery, and Peter had even more of an asset to his team than he could've hoped for. The fact that he knew something Fowler didn't just made it all the more satisfying.

Sitting back at his desk, nothing but mortgage fraud cases piling up in his inbox, Peter turned to the computer and brought up an encrypted case file on the screen. He opened one of the video files and watched the footage of Caffrey's arrest for what must have been the hundredth time. Something had always bothered him about the events of the arrest and Neal's assignment to White Collar. It was only now, after knowing what Neal was truly capable of, that Peter put the pieces together.

That sly, blue-eyed fox. What he'd said to Peter about White Collar being the safest place to be? He'd known that from the start. Of course he had. Then he'd gone and orchestrated his own capture and interrogation. That poor telepath he'd been 'overly friendly' with… Peter had to wonder what kind of whammy Neal had put on them to manipulate his treatment there. He hoped it wasn't anything too terrible.

Peter covered his face with his hands as he started to giggle, hoping the computer screen would hide his reaction from the rest of the team outside.

He had a very good feeling the next three-and-a-half years of Neal's placement were going to get a whole lot more interesting.

  
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click for art masterpost!


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